


A Good Cup of Coffee

by Sholio



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Banter, Between Seasons/Series, Coffee, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23714287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio
Summary: Making coffee is one of Peggy's jobs at the SSR. She's just not very good at it.
Relationships: Peggy Carter & Daniel Sousa & Jack Thompson
Comments: 33
Kudos: 132
Collections: Flash In The Pan: A Food Flash Exchange





	A Good Cup of Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Redrikki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrikki/gifts).



### Early 1946

The coffee was terrible.

As usual.

Daniel grimaced and added more milk, and then, feeling extravagant, a dash of sugar. At least the war had given him a high tolerance for terrible coffee in all forms, and having sugar and milk to add to it was a luxury he was still getting used to. 

It wasn't Peggy's fault that she made terrible coffee. Daniel had talked to her enough to know that she hated the stuff, and drank it only when no other form of caffeine was available. Still ... thanks to Peggy's understandably inadequate coffee-making skills, dreadful coffee had become the standard drink of the New York SSR.

"So what's Marge's flavor of the day this time?" Thompson asked lazily from the door of the canteen. "Ditchwater? Old helmet? Yesterday's socks?"

"Find out for yourself," Daniel said. He stirred his coffee and rinsed the spoon.

Still grinning, Thompson shook his head and poured himself a cup. He tasted it and made a face. "One of these days, someone needs to teach that woman to make a pot of coffee."

"Be my guest."

"You know, I just might," Thompson remarked, vigorously stirring a generous dollop of milk into his cup. "It'd be doing a favor for the whole office."

"Or you could -- and here's a novel thought, I know, so don't sprain anything thinking about it -- make it yourself," Peggy remarked, sweeping in with her arms full of canteen supplies: napkins, spoons, a fresh jar of coffee.

Daniel turned away, embarrassed. It felt disloyal to be caught commiserating with Thompson, of all people.

Thompson laughed and snagged the jar of coffee as it slipped from Peggy's overloaded arms. "You're funny, kid. Hey, did the lunch order sheet go around already? I didn't get my order in."

"I'm quite sure I don't know, Agent Thompson." Peggy brushed a strand of hair back into place -- she was breathing hard, with her hair lightly frizzled with water droplets; she'd clearly just come in from outside -- and began briskly arranging items on the countertop. "Talk to Agent Krzeminski. I last saw it on his desk."

"Yeah, guess I'll do that. Ciao." He gave them both a little wave and swept out with his cup.

"The golden boy of the SSR," Daniel remarked with a little huffed-out sigh, trying to catch Peggy's eye.

Peggy just gave a tight nod. She was busy with the cups, and Daniel felt suddenly out of place. It wasn't like it had even occurred to him to make coffee either. Peggy just always did it. That was how things were. It was part of her job. But now he was finding himself asking whether it actually _was_ her job, and whether she even wanted to.

"So I'll just .... work," he said, and made his escape.

Later, he made a point of wandering through the canteen and refreshing the contents of the coffeepot whenever he caught it on the verge of being empty. It was a public service, really ... and maybe took a little of the weight off Peggy's shoulders.

* * *

### Late 1946

"Good morning, Chief Thompson," Peggy said when Jack came into the canteen, brushing rain off his shoulders. It was early; there was almost no one there yet. And she was -- oh god -- making coffee.

Ever since Jack had taken over Dooley's chair, he'd casually instituted an office coffee-making rotation. It only made sense, after all -- everyone had been able to enjoy drinking non-terrible coffee, and he'd had a deep suspicion, which time had borne out, that Peggy wouldn't mind not making it anymore. She had somehow managed to get intermittently better, over the months, but rarely actually _good._ However, there was a general tradition that whoever came in first made the first pot, established even before Peggy had come to work there, and, well. Here she was.

"You know, I don't mind doing that," Jack said, eyeing the pot as it burbled away on the gas ring. 

"Neither do I," Peggy said brightly. "Oh, I think it's done perking." She poured a cup and handed it to him. "Here you go."

"Uh ... thanks." He blew on it and, because there seemed to be no graceful way out, took a sip.

It was perfect. Not too strong, not too weak, not burnt.

Jack raised his head, and the expression on his face must have been a picture, because Peggy was grinning brightly.

"You," he said.

Peggy busied herself tidying up the countertop.

"You ... are a _trial,_ Marge."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Peggy remarked, laying out spoons. "I have the authorization for the Atlantic City stakeout on your desk, by the way. It just needs your signature."

Jack took another sip of coffee. It hadn't magically morphed into gutter water in the meantime. All this time. That little ... in fact, he thought, giving her a look, it was quite likely that she, along with the rest of them, had also been taking her turn in the kitchen ever since word went out that the agents would be making their own coffee from now on. She was, after all, an agent.

And she'd worked undercover on the continent during the war. 

And what was going to give away an agent as British faster than a preference for tea and an inability to make coffee?

"Atlantic City is you and Sousa, right?" he said, dragging himself out of his dark suspicions. "Do you think you could somehow keep the property damage to a minimum this time?" 

"It's not _planned,_ Jack."

"Yes, well, at least _try_ not to give me any budgetary heart attacks."

"Hmm, speaking of budgetary items, we appear to be nearly out of coffee. Perhaps one of the agents could make a store run this morning -- Williams, perhaps." She looked up with a brief smile. "I would do it myself, but I'm sure I'll be much too busy. I have a stakeout to plan."


End file.
